


and hear your voice of treason

by Anonymous



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: M/M, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-19 23:40:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16544561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/





	1. Chapter 1

"Looks like we got lucky, your boy fucked up" Nacho oh so helpfully provides; famous last words they'd turn out to be.

*

The loss still stings something fierce, and now that he should be drifting off to the comforts of sleep is when he can't get that sing-songy voice out of his mind. 

Your boy. Yeah right. 

It's half-tempting to think about, ending this radio silence right there. A quick text, to mock and comisserate. In the grey before dawn, every thinly-veiled excuse seems almost respectable. 

Thankfully, he comes to his senses before being stupid, shoves the phone away instead.


	2. Chapter 2

Not unlike moths to a flame is how they've always been; how they played this little game with rules left forever unspoken. 

Still to this day, Sergio would be left without any tangible excuse as to what it was that left him wandering right into gleefully happy Piqué following defeaning loss. 

Nor could he ever dream to justify just how much, in that very moment, he longed to just sink to his knees and be made to forget.

It'd be hardest though, to forget humiliation that never came, the gentleness of every touch to his hair, his cheek, his chin.


	3. Chapter 3

All Sergio wants is to snuggle deeper into his sweater and be home already. 

Just as he's about to leave, though, a little half-laugh catches his attention. 

"It's probably ridiculous, but what if you, like, cursed yourselves? Y'know, with how you and, uhm, Piqué left things off in summer?" 

He knows it's not just him who's sick of out-doing the enemy at even failing.

And it's just a stupid joke, so damned be the way it leaves his skin crawling. 

"You know, maybe tell him. With a little luck he'll score an own goal, just to see if it's true."


	4. Chapter 4

He'd have to be a fool to deny that it had become obvious something would have to give eventually. 

Well, joke's on Sergio still, because he'd never quite thought that something would be Gerard's resolve. 

He lets him know as much, in words not quite as kind. 

It's venom misplaced, but for a glimmer of a second it feels nice to just say whatever and leave the fallout for later. 

The desperation in the way Gerard kisses him then is so utterly unexpected that even if he wanted to take it all back in an instant, he wouldn't know how.


	5. Chapter 5

Still half-way caught up in strange dreams, it's almost tempting to try and use fairytales for excuses come next press conference.

_His rotten play, oh sorry, by fucking Piqué he somehow got them both cursed. See, nothing to be done about that._

It's the smell of coffee half-burnt that brings him back to reality.

"Cursed yeah right", Sergio makes himself say it out loud, puts the phone he'd been absentmindedly toying with that last little while down on the counter.

He could only handle one mess at a time, and the coffee-coloured one was decidedly more easy to deal with.


	6. Chapter 6

The fucked-up part, maybe, is how well it actually does work.

Until he's no longer on his knees, until Piqué keeps on toying with the waistband of Sergio's sweats, as if clumsily asking permission. 

It's frankly adorable and leaves Sergio pressing feathery kisses to his collarbone before daring to look up "What are you even doing to me?"

"Trying to ensure this will be well worth the little walk of shame you'll do later", and his eyes crinkle with laughter, but Sergio would have sworn there was something almost protective about the way Gerard's fingers curled around his wrist then.


	7. Chapter 7

Some crumpled-up paper-towels are all that remain of early morning mishaps.

By some miracle and a half, he even manages to prepare unburnt breakfast without, like, horrific injuries or sprinklers going off.

"Curse zero, Sergio one, huh?", and maybe it's a bit ridiculous to announce this to the grand company of the mug in his hands. But it's not like the mug's going to judge, so.

So, when the relative serenity of it all is interrupted by a soft _beep_ by the sink, it's half-tempting to just leave it be until he's done eating and had a nice hot shower.


	8. Chapter 8

He can't help be a little wary when he spots someone lingering on the edges of the hallway.

Wariness gives way to something warmer the moment he recognizes who it is and "What are you even doing here, Piqué?". He'd hate the almost breathlessly happy note to his voice any other day, but victory may make him reckless and it's exhilarating, the way stormy blue eyes light up in response.

And then, for once Geri's the one on his knees, making the sweetest little sounds around Sergio's dick as he's held in place a little rougher than maybe need be.


End file.
